


Did I tell you the one about the agent and the detective?

by ferggirl



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, unrelated oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:16:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 17,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferggirl/pseuds/ferggirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My Densi drabbles. Unrelated Kensi/Deeks oneshots, usually from prompts left on tumblr. They start silly and then the season finale/premiere happen. </p><p>Updated with my season 5 stuff (yes I know it's 2015...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forgetting Kensi Blye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deeks is forgetting something. Something very important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (Deeks gets a bump on the head, and develops "Easy Amnesia." Kensi has to try and reacquaint him with his life.) from godyoutalkpretty on tumblr.

"Sorry, one more time?"

"Deeks, Marty Deeks." Kensi rolled her eyes and waited for the teasing glint that would be entering her partner’s eyes any moment now. "And we’ve played this game before, Detective."

"I’m a detective?" His eyebrows rose, but his face stayed a mask of confusion. Kensi got a rather nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

"Just how hard did that asshole hit you?" she muttered, looking over to where the rest of the team was cleaning up the remnants of the kill squad they’d been sent to take down. Callen and Sam had that under control, and they’d told her to stay with Deeks until he came around. 

Medical was 20 minutes out. They were in the middle of the desert, after all. 

"Hard." She looked back at him, prepared to defend herself against inappropriate innuendo. Only to see a grimace and an honest look of pain. 

Well this was completely unacceptable. 

"What  _do_  you remember?”

He was silent. His serious blue eyes were starting to make her queasy. She wasn’t sure he’d ever stayed serious for this long in her presence.  _Ever._

"Come on, childhood? Where’d you go to school? First job?" Wasn’t it true that most injury-induced amnesia was shorter-term stuff?

"Uhh," he scrunched his face in concentration. It was the face that would normally prompt teasing from the whole team. Now it just aggravated the quiet fear in her gut. "I don’t know. Tell me. Maybe something will trigger… anything."

Kensi swallowed and sat down, sliding down the wall of the adobe outbuilding until they were practically touching. 

"Like I said, your name is Marty, well I guess it’s Martin Deeks. You lived your whole live in Los Angeles. You were a lawyer until you decided you weren’t helping enough, and then you became an LAPD officer."

"Thus the detective?"

"Yeah." She glanced at him, but he still looked lost. "Your father is… dead. I don’t actually know about your mother. You work for NCIS as a liason, but Hetty wants you to join for real."

"Hetty?"

"Oh god, Deeks, don’t forget Hetty. Small woman, massive arsenal? Tea drinker? Infamous cold war spy?"

He blinked at her. “What the hell do we do?”

"Uh. Mostly undercover work. You’re the best in the LAPD at that. Lots of long jobs, best arrest record." She twisted her hands in her lap. "So good they made you investigate their own leak once."

"What about you?" He was looking directly at her, his eyes clear and questioning. There was none of the heat, none of the laughter that she had come to equate with her partner. 

"Me? I already told you, I’m your partner. Remember, when you tried to hit me?"

"That I do recall." The small smile was a start, she reasoned. He was in there, somewhere. "But I do remember you waving a gun around."

"Yes, and as my partner, you would know that I was in complete control of my firearm the entire time," she snapped and then bit her lip in frustration. This wasn’t his fault. She couldn’t be angry at him for an injury. 

"So how long have we been, uh, partners?" 

It was an innocent question, she could offer up a number of years, tack on a few months and weeks. But something inside of her rebelled. 

"Well, I think we first started trusting each other when you offered to let me hold your gun. We’ve dealt with rooms booby-trapped with lasers, you got shot being a nice guy at a corner store and still figured out that I was the real target in time to kill the guy before he killed me." She stared straight ahead and took a deep breath. She knew she was jumbling her timeline, but couldn’t stop the flow of words.

"You spent Christmas with me when I had no where to go and you caught me lying. You got me presents for the holidays even when I wouldn’t tell you why I was leaving. You lied to me about getting fired, but under protest and you wouldn’t let me make a fool of myself when I believed you. You protected my mom when I couldn’t. You always believe in me. You understand what ‘I’m fine’ really means, and you push." 

She stopped and swallowed down the lump in her throat. Her eyes were stinging.

"You always push me to talk, even when everyone else thinks you’re nuts and I’m ok."

She didn’t hear him move, but suddenly his arm was around her shoulders. Her gaze met his, hopeful.

But he just smiled back, tentatively, uncertain. “Sounds like I have a lot to remember, partner.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and checked her watch. 12 minutes until medical would arrive. 

"Yeah, you really do."


	2. Just another mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stakeout. Deeks brings actual food. Kensi is interrupted before dessert. By gunfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (anything densi) by sunshine-n-gunpowder on tumblr.

They’re not even undercover. 

It’s just a stakeout to clear the way for Callen and Sam to infiltrate the mob boss’s casino tomorrow as event planners.

Deeks has brought food, including several sugary options that he’s hidden in the glove compartment until after his partner eats at least some form of protein. And maybe a vegetable. 

He really doesn’t understand her metabolism.

They’re slouched, high powered binoculars and telephoto camera at the ready, but the building’s been quiet for hours. They aren’t necessarily expecting any activity, but neither one of them had been comfortable sending the other half of the team into a meeting blind. If their mob boss is going to plant explosives or station a small army inside, he and Kensi are going to warn the others.

If not, they get some quality partner time.

He’s kept up a steady stream of nonsense that has her rolling her eyes and fighting laughter, but it’s working well enough that she’s forgotten he put multiple green objects on her turkey sub. 

It’s dark. It’s quiet. He’s watching the smile fight to erupt on the corner of her lips when she yells, “Gun!” 

The windshield erupts inward as bullets fly above their heads. Deeks scrambles for his gun, shoving his sandwich into the cupholder and meeting her serious eyes. 

"How many?"

"I only saw one muzzle flash, but that shouldn’t have been enough to take out our windshield."

He agrees, and carefully peers into the backseat, looking for the round that so quickly pierced their special glass. It’s way too large, almost as if…

"Oh, shit. Kensi we have to move."

"What? We have no cover outside!"

"I’m 87 percent sure that was a rocket launcher and we’ve got an unexploded dud in our backseat."

She twists to look for herself. 

"SHIT."

He gets on the coms and places a call to ops. The night operator promises to call in the team as soon as possible, and asks if they need backup. 

Kensi shakes her head. 

"We can take one rocket launcher."

He grins. “Standby, base, we’ll call if we need you.”

He exits the car on his side, farthest from where Kensi remembers seeing the shot fired. She follows, sliding her lithe body across the gearshift and out the door in a motion that has him looking away.

"So what’s the plan?"

"If this bastard thinks he can keep me from dessert," she mutters irritably. He raises an eyebrow at that. "What, you didn’t think I knew what was in my own glovebox?"

There wind up being three of them, but only one with a rocket launcher. It takes seven minutes for Eric and Nell to reach ops, and another four to neutralize the threat. 

The op is blown, clearly, and the bomb squad is clearing the dud rocket from Kensi’s car as Callen and Sam pull up in the Charger. 

Kensi’s restless, irritated. 

"Relax, killer, that was pretty much world-record time," Deeks teases, tugging on her ponytail gently and then immediately retreating a safe distance. 

She’s not amused. “What if they accidentally blow up my car? I like that car. I like what’s in the glovebox of that car! You made me eat vegetables and then we got shot at before I could clean the taste out of my mouth with chocolate.”

Callen and Sam are walking their way, but Deeks decides to pull out his ace in their last few seconds of privacy.

His ace being a slightly smashed Reese’s package that he’d kept in his ankle holster.

Her smile lights up the early-morning crime scene.


	3. What gets you through the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deeks is watching reality TV instead of sleeping. Post-season 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (Kensi and Deeks watching America's next top model) from freaksgeeks-n-deeks on tumblr.

He can’t sleep. He hasn’t been able to ever since… well, it’s been weeks since he slept through the night. 

Not that he’d admit it.

Kensi knows, he’s sure of it. She eyes him when he’s slow with comebacks or doesn’t quite match her in sparring. 

She’s tried to get him to talk. It would be adorable to see her putting all of this effort into a casual, “So how was your weekend?” if he didn’t know that she is worried. 

Sam is taking some personal time in the wake of Michelle’s injury and his own torture. Callen and Hetty have their heads together most of the time, plotting next steps. But Kensi just follows him around, never too close, watching for any sign of weakness.

He rolls out of bed, tired of staring at the ceiling, and pads into the living room. Monty’s asleep on the couch, and Deeks scoots him to the side so there’s room to sit.

His phone is in his hand. He knows she’ll pick up. But it’s 3:30 am, and he just can’t bring himself to drag her into this sleepless mess that his life has become. 

So, he turns on the TV instead. No sports at this time of night, and his DVR is full of shows that he wants to be awake and aware to watch. But somewhere on cable must be a marathon of something soothing and mindless…

It hits him hard.

"America’s Next Top Model" is running through 7 am, an entire season in one night. They’re down to the final 4 episodes.

He can smell the turkey burger and beer, suddenly, and closes his eyes to bask in the memory. It had been so early in their partnership, but even then he’d known when she needed company. 

He’s got smoothies in the fridge. He finds it vaguely ironic that the next time the show enters his life, it’s Deeks who can’t chew.

Monty stirs next to him and he tries to follow the challenges, the convoluted judging and the outfits they choose for each day.

It’s not the same without her defending their choices, explaining the behind the scenes machinations, and swearing at the judges when she disagrees with their decisions. 

But it’s almost like having her there with him.

——

Kensi sleeps hard, but lately her dreams have been troubled. She wakes with her heart pounding and a strong need for a bowl of ice cream and some comfort TV.

Because in the last dream, she hadn’t been in time. She’d found Deeks too late, he hadn’t been breathing. Her hand twitches to her phone, wanting desperately to hear his voice, his tired amusement as she tries to fake a reason to call him in the middle of the night that isn’t “are you still breathing? because I need to know.”

She finds America’s Next Top Model quickly, and recognizes the season being replayed. It’s one of her favorites, and this is the episode where Marcy tripped on the photographer and ruined her couture gown. Good episode.

But she’s seen it. There are no surprises, no suspense. She wants the running commentary and bemusement that Deeks had to offer the last time they’d watched this together. 

She lifts her spoon to her mouth and her hand is shaking.

She needs to hear his voice.

Kensi stands up, paces the length of her living room as well as she can. 

"You’re a federal agent, your partner has been through severe torture, you should not be bothering him in the middle of the night."

Turn.

"But he hasn’t been sleeping. He catnaps in the car when he thinks I’m not paying attention, and he looks exhausted every single day."

Turn. 

"He would have told you if something was really wrong. You’re imagining things."

Turn. 

"Bullshit. He’s worse than I am, sometimes."

Decided, she dives for her phone and dials his number before she can change her mind.

He answers on the second ring, and he doesn’t sound like he was asleep.

"Kens? You ok?"

Her heart does a strange thing, a small double beat of happy and sad. He’s alive, and he’s awake, and something is terribly wrong.

"I’m, yeah. Why are you awake?"

There’s silence on the other end, and she reaches to mute the TV when Tyra launches on one of her tirades. 

But she can still hear it… through the phone?

"Deeks."

"Kens."

"You’re not talking."

"I am aware. I was distracted by Tyra Banks’ crazy hair."

It’s a diversion, but it makes her laugh helplessly. Tyra’s hair is weird in this episode.

"Deeks, why are you awake and watching my favorite reality TV show?"

Another pregnant pause, and then he says softly, “Needed the company.”

She absorbs that. He’s watching a Kensi show because he needs to feel like someone is there. He needs her. 

"I’m on my way over." She’s already up, digging for shoes, grabbing a carton of ice cream and the three beers left in her fridge. She’d take chips but he can’t chew.

"Kens, no, I don’t… you don’t have to…"

She’s out the door and rolls her eyes at his backpedaling. He’s been there for her, he’s so good at that. She’s going to be there for him. "Deeks, just let me in when I knock, please? And record the next episode." 


	4. Raindrops keep falling on my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rain drives Kensi to Deeks' apartment in search of company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (Densi gets the day off!) by densi-shipper on tumblr.

It was raining. 

Since when did it rain in Los Angeles? 

And of course it was happening on the team’s “day off” following a near-miss for Callen and a mere two explosions en route to about a dozen arrests. 

Deeks was not happy. He hadn’t been surfing in a week, what with the undercover work for the case and a mild strain in his hamstring. 

But today the pain was gone, Hetty had sent them packing with instructions to do no work for the day, and  _it was raining_. 

He went about his day, did laundry, texted Kensi about the funny old man who asked him to trade socks (“eww, but did you?”), went grocery shopping, texted Kensi to ask if she needed any actual food that wasn’t covered in chocolate (“obviously the answer is no”), and took Monty for a gross, wet run. 

He squished his way through the parking lot, hair plastered to his face and sopping shirt thrown over his bare shoulder, thinking about how funny Kensi would find the picture of a wet Monty trying to impress the pretty lifeguard who’d been stationed at the main beach office. Monty had shaken all over her, and she’d squealed and backed away as if she wasn’t already soaked. 

He almost missed the person-sized shape leaning against his door until he was pulling his keys out.

Monty was much more observant and was already cuddling up to Kensi in all of his wet dog glory.

"Hey," she said, and he felt her eyes run the length of his body, even as he reached down to tug Monty off of her. 

"Hey yourself." He grinned. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Nope," she assured him, waiting while he unlocked the door. "But I’m pretty sure Mrs. Peachman in apartment 7B is about to fall out of her window."

"Aw, Mrs. Peachman loves me," he laughed and turned to wave at his elderly neighbor who was, indeed, standing with her nose to the window. Her curtain fell as soon as he caught her eye, and he shook his head and wrung out his shirt on the front step.

Kensi followed him in. He tossed the wet shirt on the washing machine and turned to look at her, arms crossed.

"So, what can I do for you, partner?"

"I’m  _bored_.”

"Excuse me?"

"It’s raining."

"I’d noticed."

"There’s nothing to do in LA when it rains!"

"I’m not sure that’s entirely true, and even if it were, since when are you unhappy with a day to yourself with your television?"

She glowered at him and hung her jacket over the back of a chair. 

"Entertain me."

He blinked. “Come again?”

She paced on the other side of the couch. “I don’t know what it is, maybe that Callen cut it so close yesterday, maybe the rain is a little too much of a reminder of those times I’d be stuck waiting for my dad, I just can’t sit still.”

"So you came here?" He was touched. That was a lot of information to volunteer. She must be going sincerely stir-crazy.

She threw up her hands. “I can go, I’m sorry, maybe this was a dumb idea.”

He laughed and grabbed her arm as she stormed past him, spinning her lightly around. The contact, as it always did between them, sizzled. He dropped his hand.

"No, stay, I’ll figure something out."

He told her about Monty’s attempt at friendship as he started the fajitas. She chopped peppers and ate nearly as much as she gave him to broil. He pretended not to notice.

While they were waiting for the meat to cook, he cracked open two beers and sat on the couch, patting the cushion beside him.

"So is there a story behind this rain thing?"

Kensi snatched her beer and glowered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

"Hey, I know our communication is improving, but that was quite a lot of information from you at very little prompting." He kept his voice light, just a hint of teasing, because he wasn’t sure how deep this went.

"I communicate!"

"Yes, about food, guns, and missions," he conceded, ticking off her short list on his free hand. "Not about your father or your fears."

There was a bit of silence as she sat uncertainly next to him, staring out the window. After a brief argument with himself, he slid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. 

"Kens, don’t worry about it. You can just-"

"There was a hurricane."

He stopped talking, and would have removed his arm except that she chose that moment to slouch closer to him, resting her head back against his bicep. 

"My dad took me to Florida, for a fun trip, he said. We were going to Disney World, and we did the first day. It was magic, I had been wanting to go forever. And after Mom left, I was sure we’d never…"

Deeks took a swig of beer, and waited as she found the words.

"He said it was a trip for us. But on the second day, I woke up to a note saying he had to go out, and to order room service if I wanted anything. The hurricane hit around mid-afternoon. I didn’t know it was coming, I was just a kid. I wasn’t paying attention."

She sighed and drained her beer, putting the empty bottle to the side. 

"We were up pretty high in the hotel, and for the first few hours, I was fascinated. Watching the trees bend, seeing how strong the wind was. But right before it got dark, debris started hitting the window. The hotel sent people around to the rooms to ask us to come downstairs, where it was safer."

She shook her head, and he could see her forcing the memories back. 

"Thinking about it now, I assume my father wanted to time something to match up with the hurricane so it would be read as an accident, but… he just left me there."

"And it never rains in LA, so it’s not something I have to face very often," she sighed, closing her eyes.

They sat in silence for a minute or two, before the buzzer on the oven rang to tell him it was time to flip the steak. 

He stood, his arm still around her shoulders, bringing her up with him. Giving her time to pull away, he tugged her closer, and wrapped his beer arm around her for a real hug. After a moment, she hugged him back.

"You know there are no hurricanes in southern California, right?" he whispered teasingly into her hair.

"Shut up, Deeks," she groaned, pushing away. "Weren’t you going to feed me?"

But she was smiling when he walked away. He intended to keep it like that for the rest of the evening.


	5. Dear Hetty: I quit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deeks makes a decision after an op gone sour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (Kensi goes after Deeks to try and talk him into not going back to LAPD.) by Mockingjaylane on tumblr.

"Just, just wait a minute. Deeks!"

He is already out the door, halfway to his car by the time she catches up to him.

"What the hell is this?" She can feel her heart pounding, not from the run, but from the panic at his closed-off expression, the finality of his goodbye. 

"Kensi, I’m not going to stand here and talk," he starts, but she cuts him off.

"Fine, then we don’t stand here. But you’re not walking away with a cardboard box and not talking to me." She walks over and pulls the box out of his unresisting hands, giving him the keys. "We’ll take my car."

She puts the box in the backseat without looking into it. She’s a little nervous to see what, exactly, he thinks is important enough to take with him when he leaves them forever. 

When she climbs into the passenger seat, she doesn’t reach for the radio. Her hands are clenched, tucked between her thighs in an effort to hide the tension she’s feeling. 

They drive for a few minutes in silence, the tension radiating off of him like a malevolent fog. Just when she’s sure she’s going to have to punch something in order to stay quiet any longer, he speaks.

"Don’t you have work to do?"

"I’ll deal with it," she snaps. "I’m slightly more concerned about why my partner just quit."

He pulls the SUV into a mostly empty parking lot overlooking the beach. It’s cool for Los Angeles, and the only loungers are determined tourists who promised themselves a taste of the Pacific life. 

They stay seated, staring at the waves. 

"Hetty knows I have a breaking point," he says finally. 

"What is that supposed to mean? We all do. Hell, I’m pretty sure in the last year alone, every person on this team has had their off the grid moment."

"No, not like that," he sighs. "I was never the right fit for the team. You all speak your five languages, take your agent training seriously, have military connections and can speak acronym…"

"Deeks."

"Listen, it was all well and good when I was liason. But I’m supposed to be your full-fledged partner. And we both know I’m not up to par."

"Bullshit. You think I’d have pushed you to join the agency if you weren’t? You think Hetty would have recommended you?"

He sighs again, sliding one hand into his hair. “Kensi, you were wrong.”

"Deeks, I’m ok."

He looks at her then, his eyes troubled.

"You got me out, you knew what I’d do, the plan worked."

"The plan? The plan that fell apart in the first five minutes and left me to watch as you got in a cartel car with no backup, no wire, and no comms? The plan was shit."

"I’m ok."

His hands tighten on the steering wheel until she can see the white in his knuckles.

"Deeks. It wasn’t any worse than the Russians."

"My fault."

"Not your fault! Where do you get off, taking responsibility for everything that goes wrong?" She’s fuming, she knows this isn’t the best tack to take but she can’t help it. "I made the decision to step away from the car, and the plan to use us as a decoy was NOT yours. And this time around, you may have had the idea, but Callen was in charge of execution, Eric was in charge of backstopping me and Nell promised their jammers wouldn’t work on the wire."

She takes a deep breath, and reaches for one of his hands.

"I know you’re nervous, I know Sam’s been an ass. But none of us would have supported this if we didn’t know that you were qualified and capable."

His hand tightens on hers, and he leans back into the headrest.

"Shit."

"Yeah, shit is right. Did you actually give Hetty a letter?"

"Left it on her desk."

"So we wait a few hours, and we go back and get it. Ok?"

He’s looking at their hands, and so she tugs on his a bit until his eyes rise to her face. 

"I’ll tell you when you’re an idiot. You’ll tell me when I’m reckless. That’s the deal. None of this bullshit."

He nods, a wry smile twisting the corner of his mouth up. “Ok, partner.”

They sit, connected by their hands and listening to the ocean, for an hour before he turns the key and heads back to the mission.

When she’s carrying his box back inside, she sees three twinkies and the postcard she’d sent him from Hawaii that Christmas. 

He shreds the letter in the darkness of ops, and she hugs him impulsively. 

"Idiot."


	6. Testing boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kensi is flustered, Deeks is basically naked under that towel. GO AWAY, Hetty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (SHIRTLESS DEEKS - FLUSTERED KENSI) sent by an anonymous tumblr user.

"You going to tell me what the hell happened back there?"

Deeks’ voice cut through the oppressive silence that had fallen since Nell had given up and left Kensi sitting on one of the locker room benches, still in her gym clothes. She was facing the lockers, back to the door.

She didn’t turn around. 

"Deeks, go away."

"Like hell. You haven’t scored that low on a practical since the academy, if my memory serves me correctly. And you told me you had the flu then."

She growled low in her throat. “I said drop it.”

"Oh," he padded closer, she could hear his bare feet slapping against the tile, "and in case it’s slipped your ninja mind, this was a partner-based exam. So we both scored like shit."

God he was an ass. “Don’t you think I know that?” she asked, slamming the locker door shut with a satisfying clang. “You think I’m not pissed?”

"I think you either have the flu or something rattled you. And since you’re Kensi Blye, and we all know you weren’t rattled, I’d like to feel your forehead, please," he snarked. 

She spun around, fully prepared to bitch him out, and the breath left her body as surely as if he’d punched her in the gut.

He hadn’t of course. But he was standing there, pissed as hell, with nothing but one of those paltry little white gym towels wrapped around his waist. 

And nothing else. 

She could see the puckered scars from his bullet wounds, the white skin of his pelvis standing out next his tanned torso. And had she known his thighs were  _that_ muscular?

"Kensi?" She dragged her eyes up to her face, and swallowed. He was angry, she could see it, but he was also aware of what she’d just been doing. And damn him, he was amused. What had he even asked her?

"Yeah, fine, whatever," she stammered out, trying for a nonchalant tone. 

He raised an eyebrow - oh god his hair was all wet and rumpled - and took a step toward her. 

She jumped back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He took another step. Her retreat brought her back against the lockers, and so she stiffed her spine and glared at him.

"You better have a fever," he said, reaching a hand out to settle on her forehead. "Because otherwise I’m going to have to assume you’re getting old and losing touch with reality."

Everywhere his hand was touching her face felt over sensitized and warm. She fought to breathe through it, to keep her heart rate low, but she could feel a flush spreading to her cheeks. 

After a moment, he pulled his hand away. She crossed her arms and waiting for him to step back. He leaned in, instead, the heat from his body jumping across the inches separating them. 

"So what rattled you, Blye?"

She groaned and rubbed at her face with her hands. “Let it go, Deeks.”

He wrapped  his hands around her wrists and slowly lowered them to her sides. “No.” He slid his hands to her shoulders and she shivered. “Talk to me.”

He wasn’t going away. Oh sure, she knew if she pushed at him he’d step back, give her personal space, but he wanted answers. And it had been a joint score.

"It’s an old.. look, sometimes I was hard to get along with in my misspent youth."

"You?" He cocked his head to the side, looking for all the world like a very serious golden retriever, and she felt his thumbs sweep across the bare skin of her shoulders.

God, that was distracting.

"Yeah, me. I, uh, I was the best. At everything. And most people didn’t mind, but the number two in the class at the academy was," his thumb found the hollow of her collarbone, and her mouth went dry, "he was, um, not a fan."

"That one bad score?" He was so damn perceptive.

"He swapped out my gun for a different model at the last moment. Different weight and," from the corner of her eye she saw the towel sliding slowly down his left hip as the knot untied itself, "Deeks. Your uh, towel."

Her partner never even broke eye contact, just nodded and re-secured it. “But that was a long time ago. Why bring it,” she saw the minute the pieces fell into place. “Oh goddammit, Kensi.”

"Yeah."

"He’s the  _examiner_?”

"Yes."

"And he decided to settle an old score by pulling a small switch on Agent Blye, yes, Mr. Deeks it does appear that way."

They both spun to the sound of Hetty’s voice. She looked appropriately serious, although Kensi saw her expression shift slightly as she took in Deeks’ attire. 

"It wasn’t difficult to discover, Ms. Blye. The gun was not only not yours, but the weight had been deliberately altered to throw off your aim."

Deeks made and outraged noise in his throat and took an involuntary step forward. Which put him right at her back. It took everything she had not to lean into him.

_Hetty’s in the room. HETTY’S in. the. room._

"I wasn’t sure that was the case, Hetty, or I would have said something. I should be able to complete that course with any gun I’m handed."

"Nonsense, it was juvenile, unprofessional, and the result will be thrown out immediately."

Kensi let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Deeks huffed a laugh, and squeezed her right shoulder. 

"So do we get another shot at it?" 

"Yes, Detective, Washington is sending a replacement out immediately. You’ll be tested tomorrow."

Hetty turned to leave. Deeks’ hand was still on her shoulder, and she could feel his towel brushing the backs of her legs. Kensi started to turn, feeling that facing him would be safer than maintaining their current position.

"Oh, and Mr. Deeks?" Hetty was in the doorway. "Please don’t make me remind you again that this is the women’s locker room. That connecting door is strictly for cleaning staff and emergencies."

He saluted, and grinned after her. 

"See, partner! Should have just told me. Or Hetty, but I would have told Hetty because  _that_ is some unprofessional bullshit.” He shoved playfully at her shoulders, and she attempted to keep her focus above his abdomen. 

"Yeah, fine, great. Now we have to do the whole test again tomorrow. And you could have made a few more shots in the open combat room."

"Untrue!" He got a devious look in his eyes and she tensed. "Did you not see my sheets? All bodymass." He trailed his right hand down from her shoulder to hover over her heart. "One here." He touched her like a whisper, and then his hand was moving again, to the side of her ribcage. "One here." She knew where he was heading for the final shot, because she  _had_ seen that sheet.

Before his hand could reach that part of her body, she brought her own up and lightly punched him just above the pelvic bone. “And one there, yeah, I got it.” If she could just lower her damn heartrate.

His eyes were dark and liquid, and his grin was thoroughly pleased. “Hmm, I thought it was a bit lower than that myself.”

Dear god, if he didn’t leave right now that towel was coming off and Hetty would fire them both.

"Oh my  _god_ _,_  Deeks, what are you? A college kid? Go! I need to shower! Get dressed, please!” She pushed against him with the flat of her palms, and for just a moment he resisted. For the space of that moment, her hands trailed down of their own accord, reaching for that damn towel. 

And then he was moving across the room, unwrapping the towel to give her a nice view of his butt as he reached for the connecting door.

"Better not, Kens. Hetty was pretty clear."

She dialed up a nice cold shower.


	7. Did I say that out loud?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kensi and Deeks slip up during a team basketball game and reveal more than they meant to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (kensi and deeks in a secret relationship and accidentally/mindlessly doing something really relationshippy that cant be brushed off as partner closeness in front of sam and callen) by an anonymous tumblr user.

They made it six weeks. Six weeks of sleeping at each others’ places, sneaking lunches alone and being as normal as possible whenever they were around the rest of the team.

Six weeks of touching, learning each others’ bodies and how they fit together. 

So it was inevitable, really, that touching would be what gave them away in the end.

They were in a heated basketball game, two on two with Sam and Callen. They’d discussed last night, in bed, how they were better at anticipating each others’ moves now, at reading the tilt of a shoulder or the hesitation in a step.

It was helping, because for the first time in months, they were winning. 

"You know what it is? I think my partner’s getting old," Sam griped as Deeks sank a bank shot over Callen’s head. "Old and short."

"Oh, that’s our problem?" Callen shot back, glaring as Kensi did a spin move around Sam and drove to the basket. "I think you’re just slow."

"Well, when the married couple is done blaming each other," Deeks grinned, "we have a game to win. Two points to go, Kensalina."

"Shut up and play, hotshot." But she grinned.

It was hard-fought, and the insults intensified. 

"Too bad we don’t play in the water, Sam."

"Callen, the goal is to get the ball in the hoop, you know."

"You miss this shot and you’re doing my dishes for a month." Deeks called out as Kensi released a jumper that was obviously short. 

They were tied, Callen and Sam having clawed their way back, when Kensi leaned over to whisper in Deeks’ ear: “You get free, I’ll pass to you, and you make that shot or no touching me for a week.”

Later, he tried to defend himself. Heat of the moment, thrill of victory, blessed relief. 

But there was no mistaking what he’d said when the ball found the net. As they high-fived, he laughed and did a happy dance around her.

"Oh sweet Jesus, thank you. I cannot keep my hands off you for a week."

About three seconds passed before it hit them that a) Deeks had not whispered that, and b) Sam and Callen were staring at them in shock.

And it had been such a  _nice_  six weeks, Deeks thought as they made their way to Hetty’s desk.


	8. Same old routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deeks and Kensi have a few go-to moves. This is one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (Kensi breaks up with Deeks.) by an anonymous tumblr user.

"You’re such an ass." Kensi glared over at her partner, shoving her things into her purse.

"Listen, wait…" he reached for her hand but she yanked it back out of reach.

"No. No way, I’m done with this. I’m done with all the lies and the games and the bullshit." Her voice wavered for a moment, and she looked away, out over the ocean that came up next to the seaside restaurant.

"If you’d just let me explain," he said desperately. "It isn’t what you think."

"It’s always what I think. And your excuses are getting less and less believable." She stood then, and felt the eyes of the restaurant on her. She lowered her voice to a furious whisper. "I’ll let you pick up the bill,  _honey_. Catch a cab home. Your stuff will be on the curb waiting for you.”

Then she tossed a glass of water in his face and stormed out to smatterings of applause. 

**

She got back to ops 15 minutes later. 

"How’s it look, did she take the bait?"

Eric and Nell waved to her as she tied up her hair. 

"Bartender is chatting him up as we listen. Nice job, Kens." Eric was focused on a search running on his secondary screen. 

Nell turned to smile at her. “You guys are really good at the old break-up routine.”

Kensi smiled back, but didn’t comment. No one at work knew yet that last week she’d slept with her partner. Or that the next day they’d panicked, and fought, and she’d left in tears after slapping him across the face. Or that they hadn’t properly talked to each other since.

Yeah, they were good. A little too good at this, if you asked her.


	9. You found me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kensi finds Deeks in the season premiere. (Now AU. This was a guess at what might happen in 5x01 based on the promo.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (Whatever you think will happen in the scene where Kensi finds Deeks in the promo) from emeraldeyesfilledwithfear on tumblr.

Too long. It’s taking too damn long to get there. When Callen finally pulls to a stop outside the innocuous building where they suspect Deeks and Sam are being held, her door is open before the car is off.

Kensi isn’t sure her feet hit the ground.

It isn’t that she’s ignoring orders from Callen and Granger. It’s just that for the past 12 hours, from the moment the team realized they’d lost touch with Deeks, she’s been slowly losing her mind. 

Sam, her brother, her friend, if anything happens to Sam she’ll break into pieces. But Deeks…

_How’s that for communication?_

And she’d run away.

"Oh god, just be ok. Deeks, you giant blond idiot, you have to be ok."

She catches herself muttering out loud and swallows hard. Callen puts his hand on her shoulder, and a moment of eye contact tells her what she needs to know. They are ready. He understands. 

Through the doors. Check, “clear,” turn. Wait to hear the responses of the others.

Next room. Check, “clear,” turn. 

Granger comes to stand behind her, ready to enter the main area together. 

Through the doors. Her hands don’t tremble as she takes out two guards. 

They’re getting close, then. 

Granger nods to the door where one of the guards had been sitting, reading the newspaper. 

Kensi takes a moment to just warn whoever is up there. They need to be alive. It’s non-negotiable. 

Then they’re through the door, and Sam’s slumped in a chair and she runs to him but he shakes his head and nods to the window in front of him.

She doesn’t hear Granger yell at her to go, doesn’t hear him report to Callen on the comms. Her world has tunneled down to a blond head hanging limply over a battered body in the next room.

"Deeks."

She’s running then. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t look up. He’s so damn still.

And why is there so much blood?

"No, no, no, no." It takes hours, days even to reach him. Every step seems to take her further away. And then she’s there, and he’s so broken, and she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. Her training has her reaching for a pulse, but then he’s groaning, and was she holding her breath that entire time?

But there’s so much blood. 

She searches for the source, running her hands over his shoulders and down his side until her right comes away sticky with his blood and he flinches away from her in pain.

"Deeks," her voice breaks. But Eric has medical on the way and Callen is helping Granger lift Sam. They’re both alive, dammit. She pulls out her knife to cut his bonds and he flinches again. "Hey, partner, hey. It’s me."

He doesn’t open his eyes, but with the bruises on his face she’s not sure he can. Still, the tension drains out of him, and he slumps forward, leaving her to catch him before he slides off the chair. 

"Whoa, Deeks, it’s ok. Help is coming. Oh god."

She eases him to the floor, head in her lap, and rips off her blue plaid shirt. She wads the bulk of it over his oozing wound and whispers an apology as she applies pressure.

He’s slipping again, back into unconsciousness. She can hear the sirens now, and she bends her head to his. Not touching, because she can’t find a spot on his face that they haven’t bruised, but close enough to ghost a kiss onto his dirty hair. 

She can feel Callen walk into the room. He stands back for a minute, and then she straightens, always keeping pressure on the gunshot. 

"How long?"

"2 minutes. He’ll make it, Kens."

"Of course he will." She hates the shake to her voice. "Why the window?" She’s been wondering why they were left in sight of each other. Why Sam was in such relatively good condition. Why Deeks had taken the brunt of the punishment. Her hands are both slippery with blood. 

"Sam said," Callen hesitates and she turns to look at his face. She will not be lied to. He knows this. "They were trying to make him give up Michelle by making him watch as they hurt Deeks."

For a moment her vision goes completely black, but her need to keep pressure on the wound overrides the rage. She chokes on a breath. 

"Bastards." It’s inadequate.  _Poor communication skills_ , her partner says in her head.

This time she’s choking back a sob.

Then the medical team comes flying in, and she holds pressure while they load him onto a gurney. They swap dressings and take off at a run for the ambulance. She’s left standing, for a moment, her hands dripping with her partner’s blood. She takes a step back when Callen moves as if to hug her. 

He sighs. “Go, Kens, you should be in the ambulance.”

Of course she should. Why didn’t she think of that? They both start for the door, and as the adrenaline seeps from her system she has to blink away dark spots that hover on the edge of her vision. Because now there is nothing left for her to do. 

Now she can only wait.


	10. So my friend Monica and I...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kensi finishes the story she started telling in Neighborhood Watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (Deeks finally manages to get Kensi to finish her "Me and my friend Monica both liked a guy" story from Neighborhood Watch!) from godyoutalkpretty on tumblr.

_Hey, if you knew about Kensi private time, your head would explode._

_Yeah, okay._

_I can be sexy and wild!_

_Of course you can._

_I can._

_Ok._

_You don’t believe me? All right, fine. I’m gonna tell you a little story, but. No. Judging._

_No judging._

_Ok. So my friend Monica and I. We met this guy over spring break and we both liked him, and we didn’t think it was fair to make him choose between us, so we…_

**

He leaves the conversation out of the report, of course. There’s no need to include partner banter, especially the kind that could embarrass the partner. 

Except he’d never gotten to hear the bits that were potentially embarrassing. 

He finds himself concocting various possible endings to the awfully enticing scenario that keeps running through his brain. 

Kensi and Monica and random guy, threesome, obviously tops the list. 

But it’s too easy, and for all of Kensi’s confident sensuality, she doesn’t have the knowing look in her eye that has generally accompanied his more adventurous partners. 

Kensi and Monica take turns? Kensi and Monica watch each other? This young, college-age Kensi is such a mystery to him that he just can’t pin down a scenario he’s happy with.

Well, he’s also really enjoying thinking them through. 

But Mary Deeks is a detective, and unanswered questions  _bother_  him. Especially sexy Kensi private times that she was totally going to tell him. 

So he starts bringing it up.

"…looks like she was using a .22, and hey you never finished that story."

"Huh? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Deeks. Focus."

"The uh, Monica story."

His arm is bruised for three days from where she punches him. He resolves never to ask in the bullpen again.

"Clear! Looks like we missed them. You got any guns?"

"Nope, just a really smelly pot of day-old spaghetti. Wanna tell me about Monica, take my mind off it?"

"Oh my god, shut up."

He waits a day, and then changes his tactics. 

"I don’t know, these bank statements all seem in order."

"Monica?"

"Deeks!"

After about a week, he knows he has to pull back or she’ll never tell him just on principle. So for partner movie night, he brings wine, not beer, and holds his very curious tongue. 

They’re halfway through “Definitely Maybe” (his choice) and she’s grumbling about the one man, multiple women theme and he just slides her a look. And she crumbles.

"Fine. FINE. But the no judging stands."

"Of course."

He pauses the movie, because she hasn’t seen it and he wants to concentrate on his victory.

"Right, so it was spring break. And there was this really hot guy, and both of us liked him."

"I’ve heard this bit. Hurry up before someone shoots at us."

She glares at him and he shuts up.

"Well, we didn’t think it was fair that he would get to choose between us, so we made a deal that whoever won in…" she hesitates and he holds his breath. "We jello-wrestled, okay? For the right to hit on this guy. Me and Monica."

He doesn’t respond, busy creating mental images of a solution he’d never considered.

"Good enough for you, Deeks?" Her cheeks are a little pink, and he can tell his voice is rough when he finally gets it back.

"Uh, well, you’re missing a few key details. Was the guy there when you jello-wrestled?"

"No."

"Was it in public?"

"Yeah, at the bar."

"Clothing?"

"Bathing suits."

"Then what?"

"Huh?"

"So what happened next?"

"I told you what happened," she mutters, glaring down at the popcorn.

"No, no, no, wait." He straightens, sensing an omission. "This was spring break public jello wrestling over a guy. Who won? Someone wound up making out with someone at the very least." 

"Jello wrestling isn’t enough for you?" Her glare is fiery, and he knows he’s hit on something.

"Cmon, Kens, out with it. No secrets between partners!"

She glares a bit longer, but it settles into a considering look that has him questioning his earlier assessment of her sexual aggressiveness.

"Fine. You want the rest? She won, my consolation prize was the bartender letting me rinse off in the staff bathroom and giving me free shots for the rest of the night. We made out on the beach later."

"She  _won?_ " He dismisses the rest of the story easily. "You and Monica don’t talk much anymore, do you?"

"We… we do. Just, I may have challenged her to a rematch a few years ago."

He stares at her with a wide grin. “And?”

"She’s married with three kids. Still kicked my ass. Can’t figure out how. Girl always was slippery."


	11. You found me, pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kensi visits Deeks in the hospital. (AU now, second part of speculation about 5x01, first part is Ch. 9)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (Kensi sneaking into Deeks' hospital room at night and crawling into bed with him.) from sunshine-n-gunpowder on tumblr.

She just wants to see him.

Callen dragged her from the hospital a few hours ago to shower and give the nurses a rest. But she can’t sleep.

There was so much blood.

She pulls up to the hospital and enters through the emergency bay doors. The tired nurse on duty is unfamiliar, but the moment she says her name Kensi is waved through. Hetty must have left a note, or something, she thinks with a tired smile as she makes her way through the overnight ward.

She passes Sam’s room, and sees him sleeping peacefully with Michelle in the chair next to his bed. She’s glad, and that little part of her that’s angry at the pair of them can go to hell.

It wasn’t their fault. Deeks would tell her it wasn’t their fault.

Well, if he could talk.

But that brings to mind his swollen and bloodied face, which had just been covering the awful damage done to his mouth. The reconstruction dentist had needed to throw up after the initial inspection. 

Kensi had already done that twice since bringing Deeks in.

She slows outside his room, and nods to the nurse on duty in the ICU. 

"How is he?"

The woman, Sarah according to her nametag, looks down at his chart. 

"He hasn’t really slept yet tonight," she says with a grimace. "It seems like he’s fighting it. He got very agitated when we offered him a sleep-aid, but if he doesn’t rest his body won’t be able to start healing."

Kensi swallows hard. That’s easy to say, harder to do if every time he closes his eyes he’s back in that room. Watching Sam watch him as they ratchet up the pain.

"Then I’m not disturbing him?"

Sarah shakes her head. “See if you can get him to respond. I can barely get him to look at me, never mind a smile.”

Kensi remembers a different hospital bed, a different gunshot. A running joke about sponge baths and nurses. 

How could this happen to him?

But she smiles tightly at Nurse Sarah and edges into the room, closing the door behind her.

"Hey," she says, loud enough to be heard over the drone of the television. It’s on cartoons. He’s not looking at it.

He doesn’t respond, of course. He screamed the first time someone forced him to open his mouth again. He’s been silent since then. 

So she walks over, sits on the edge of the bed. Not touching him, but close. 

"Deeks, the nurse says you’re not sleeping."

She wants to joke, to harangue, to bluster. But he’s in so much pain, she feels she owes him her honesty. 

He does turn to her, then. Slowly, painfully uncurling from his earlier position facing the wall. He points at something on the bedside table.

A notepad. Of course. Hetty would have considered that.

She hands it to him, and he writes a sentence before handing it back.

_Don’t feel especially safe._

His blue eyes are unguarded, and the frustration, the fear, the self-loathing are all clear on his face. 

"Just a minute," she whispers. Fighting to keep her emotions level, she walks to the door and calls out to Nurse Sarah. "I’m going to stay with him. Please give us a few hours?"

The nurse smiles understandingly and makes a note. Kensi closes the door and then pulls the privacy curtain.

Deeks is watching her from across the room. He’s written something else and is holding the pad out to her.

_Assassin or conjugal visit?_

It’s weak, and he doesn’t do more than twitch at the edges of his mouth, but it’s a joke. She can’t fight the grin. 

"Idiot. Conjugal visit, obviously. Melissa at your service."

He’s still for a moment, and then painstakingly shifts himself over a few inches to the left, leaving a small space on the near side of the hospital bed.

She doesn’t hesitate. Pulling her gun out of its holster and laying it on the bedside table (“See? Safe.”) she kicks off her shoes and slides in next to him. Just like Melissa and Justin. Almost.

"If I start to starfish, you have my permission to hurt me," she says.

She hears the pencil work in the low light, and then he lays the pad on her stomach and relaxes back into the pillows. His hand slips into hers, and she doesn’t comment, just curls her fingers around his. 

The handwriting is messy and hard to make out, but she’s not a federal agent for nothing. 

_Never, Fern._

He slides into sleep as she lies next to him, silent tears streaming down her face for the first time today.


	12. Pom-poms and everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's certain details that stick in Deeks' mind and come up again during missions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (Densi mid-combat banter/flirting) by caskettdensi on tumblr.

"But really, a cheerleader?"

"Drop it, Deeks."

Kensi is flat against the warehouse wall, watching chunks of brick get blown away by an automatic rifle. The drug cartel captain is around the corner, trapped in the alley with no escape.

Which would be great if he didn’t have the damn rifle. 

Deeks grins at her from across the alley, where he’s crouched behind a dumpster. 

"I’m just saying, Kensalina, I would have thought your costume of choice would be less… girly."

He peeks up over the side of the dumpster and the suspect immediately fires in his direction.

"I don’t know if you missed the memo, Deeks, but I am in fact a girl," Kensi hisses. She gets a shot off before the rifle switches back to her side.

Deeks’ laugh is a bit breathless. "No, I got that one."  

The firing pauses as the suspect stops to reload, and they both swing into action. 

Kensi’s second shot hits him in the shoulder. Deeks runs up to knock the gun away. 

Deeks stands with his gun at the ready as she cuffs the drug cartel captain. He’s bleeding steadily from the shoulder wound, but he should be stable enough to interrogate, she notes with relief. 

They each grab an arm and start walking back to the road, their guns out in case they missed any of his crew.

Deeks is quiet until the ambulance arrives.

"So, you came to work with pom-poms and everything?"

"I will shoot you."


	13. Running up that hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU for events at the end of season 4 and 5x01: Kensi is captured, and Deeks is the one struggling to help her cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (Densi AU. Kensi is tortured and Deeks is the one trying to support her afterwards) by caskettdensi on tumblr.

"How’s that for communication?"

Shit. Fuck. What the hell. Shit. For all that she complains about her partner’s way with words, Kensi isn’t doing much better at the moment. 

She mumbles something about needing to get to Michelle and starts off in a daze, leaving a rather smug partner standing behind her. But about two minutes later, she spins the bike around. 

She’s early for her rendezvous with Granger to back Michelle up. She has a few minutes. And no way in hell is she going to run away from Deeks. Well, she already has. Technically. But she is going to go back, and say something snarky, and maybe kiss him again. 

Maybe. 

No, she is definitely going to kiss him again.

She ditches the bike in some bushes and climbs to their lookout spot on her own two feet. Deeks is gone. A chill runs down her spine. Something is very wrong. 

A splash from the house draws her attention. Deeks is standing, gun drawn, on the near side of the pool. Sam is nowhere to be seen, and Siderov is smiling, the bastard. 

Kensi flies to the parked car, scrabbling for the door handle and wrenching her rifle out from under the backseat. It takes her a full minute to set it up. They’re yelling at each other down there, and Sam hasn’t reappeared. That splash is feeling more and more ominous. 

By the time she’s looking through the viewfinder, it’s been long enough that even Sam’s SEAL training doesn’t provide much reassurance. He needs to breathe. 

She focuses on Deeks for a moment, relieved to see that he, at least, appears whole. Then she finds Siderov. He makes a throwing motion and she lifts her head up from the sight so she can evaluate the entire scene. He’s thrown something into the water and Deeks is dropping his gun and diving in after it. Siderov gestures lazily to his men to retrieve the two agents, and Kensi sees red. 

She breathes in, aims, breathes out, and sees red again. But this time it’s the lackey’s brain matter spread across the pool deck. She swivels quickly, taking the second man out with a shot to the chest. There’s panic now, they clearly weren’t expecting her. Siderov freezes just long enough for her to take his head off if she so wished, but the mission is paramount. She lets him scurry away, leaving Deeks and Sam alive in the pool. Deeks heaves Sam up over the side, and then looks up to where she’s watching. She knows he can’t see her, but the small wave is enough.

Kensi checks her watch. Now she really has to go.

**

Deeks is walking Sam through his entire conversation with Siderov for the third time when Callen walks up.

"I said that we’d been investigating Quinn for years. I did not blow Michelle’s cover, Sam."

"You did good, Deeks," Callen nods, and Deeks feels a tightness in him ease. 

Sam glowers. “If he did so well, where are Kensi and Granger? Why haven’t we completed this damn mission?”

Deeks is nervous about that himself. The last time he went up to ops, the trio of very serious concerned faces and lack of working communication with his partner and the assistant director had made his stomach churn. 

"Eric and Nell are working on it," Callen assures them both. "It’s a damn good thing Kensi hadn’t left yet for the meet, though. Otherwise it’s you two we’d been looking for right now."

Deeks attempts a smile, but the rush of nausea turns it into a grimace. He’d so much rather it was him they were looking for. Besides, what he isn’t telling the rest of the team is that Kensi hadn’t stayed - she’d come back. She’d run away from that kiss and then  _she’d come back._

He would be downright giddy except he’s so damn worried. 

**

They start on Granger first. Kensi sits there, furious and tied to the chair, watching them electrocute him until he can barely hold his head up. But he’s strong, and Siderov smiles his creepy smile. 

"Well, I didn’t expect a seasoned veteran like you to give me anything. Why don’t we try your young partner, here? She may be more amenable."

And then she’s meeting Granger’s eyes through the filmy glass. She can see the apology in them, and she steels herself for the shock of electricity that never comes. Confused, she looks to her left and finds a man holding a tray full of terrifyingly large dental instruments. 

"What do you think, my dear?" Siderov is standing too close to her. She keeps hoping that Deeks and Callen and Sam are going to break through the doors, that this is all just a bad dream. "Would you like to tell me what I need to know?"

"Leave her!" Granger yells, but his guard hits him hard over the head and he slumps, silent. 

They force her mouth open, and she does her best to turn inward. To think of other things. Of the beach, of Monty, of blue eyes and messy hair and a smile a mile wide. 

But she knows she’s screaming. 

**

It takes too long. Too damn long. Deeks hates the plan, hates the mission, hates Hetty a bit. He’s just full of rage.

Callen and Janvier pull the distraction while Deeks and Sam hit the repair shop. And then there’s no rage, just fear.

Because she’s not moving and there’s blood all over her face and her mouth looks like something out of a horror movie.

"Kensi! No, no, no, no!" He’s kneeling in front of her, his hands hesitantly on her shoulders, begging her to wake up.

When her eyes flutter, he nearly passes out with relief. Then Sam calls for the packet, and he tosses one over, noting that Granger looks pretty lousy himself. 

"Deeks?" Her voice is rough and raw, and she spits some blood onto her shirt and he wants to cry. "What are you…? Cut me loose!"

She means it as an order, but it comes out as a plea. His own voice breaks when he answers her.

"Kens, I’m sorry. I can’t. I need you to stay here just a little longer." He shows her the blood packets and her bleary eyes widen in understanding. He tucks them into her shirt and knows he should go. He needs to be clear for this to work. But she shaking and hurt and he leans his forehead against hers for a moment.

Then Callen’s voice cuts across the comms. “He’s heading back. Sam, Deeks, get out of there.”

The moment she’s out of his sight, the rage is back.

"Did she say anything? Is Michelle safe?" Sam presses him as they drive away. 

"Did it look to you like she gave any information up?" Deeks snaps. 

They wait a few blocks away, in silence, as Michelle reinforces her cover by shooting the prisoners. 

The moment Callen is sure it’s safe he’s running back inside, an EMT behind him. He helps to life her onto the stretcher and rides with her in the ambulance. And she never once meets his eyes. 

He’s pacing the room, watching the doctors try to examine her, when she starts fighting back. The doctor is calmly explaining that she needs to open her mouth, and the nurses are holding her down and there’s a very large needle in play when Granger yells, “Just give her a minute. For god’s sake, give her a minute.”

He walks over, takes her hand and silently begs her to look at him. To let him in, to let him help bear this pain. 

"Kensi, you gotta listen to the doctor." She twists away, looking at the ceiling, the floor, Granger. Not him. "Kensi. Kensi!" 

"Detective." Hetty’s voice cuts through his panic. "I believe we should be going now."

"I’ll be back, I swear," he whispers and squeezes her hand. She doesn’t respond. 

**

So they got the bad guys. The bombs are safe. Michelle has survived the day.

Kensi mechanically pulls things from her locker and drops them in the cardboard box, not really looking at them. 

"I think I’m done being an agent," she’d told Granger.

He’d said something about it being a big loss, she hadn’t really listened. Then he’d suggested they go save Deeks and Sam and Michelle. She’d supposed she owed them that. 

But that is over now. And there’s a giant empty hole inside her that she can’t imagine ever filling. The confines of the Mission seem too tight, like the walls are pressing in on her. She reaches into the locker again to find it empty, and turns to her desk. 

Deeks is there.

"Hey." His smile seems off, but she’s too numb to know why. "What are you doing?"

Oh. The box of stuff. She looks down at it, then back at him. What had she been doing? “Um, I don’t know I was just… uh, cleaning some stuff out. But I don’t know.” As she says it, the phrase drills itself deeper into her brain. “I don’t know.”

"So," he says, taking a step toward her. "Look, I know what you’re feeling-"

"I really hope you never do," she snaps. Because the brief glimpse her mind has just given her of Deeks, bloody and battered and broken… that’s worse than anything she can imagine for herself right now. 

"Yeah," he says, clearly uncertain as to how to proceed. "Kens, I just… I was just trying to say I’m here. If you want to talk," she tenses immediately and he hurries to correct himself, "or not talk. I’m here for you."

She hears the words, but they’re echo-y, distant. The part of her that would have smiled, that might have blushed, is lost inside the numbing darkness that clouds her soul. She can’t expose him to that. 

"I just, I think I need to get away from this, from everything."

He looks like he wants to come closer, but doesn’t move. “And everyone?”

She’s silent, staring down into the box and wishing she had the words to tell him why he should stay away from her. Why he’d be so much better off with her gone. 

But then she looks up to find him walking out of the bullpen and something in her breaks free. 

"Deeks."

He stops, and she takes a moment to sift through the mess of thoughts that rushed to her when she saw him leaving.

_I came back. You left me there. I needed you. You saved me._

It feels useless, but maybe it will help him see. “I just want you to know that the place I went to in my head, to stop the pain, was you.”

"Your stupid dog, your bad jokes, your laugh," she lists them quickly. "Everything."

He’s frozen in place, and if she didn’t know him better she’d say he was trying not to startle her, to throw her off. But she does, and she’s not even sure why she called him back. Except he deserves to know that he saved her.

"It was the only thing that got me through." She swallows, tasting blood and bile. "For what it’s worth."

He’s moving then, hugging her before she can protest, and for a second she allows it. For that moment, she lets herself imagine a world where she can have him, where this will work. 

And then Sam and Callen and Granger are coming through the doors and she pulls away.

He’ll be better off without her, anyway.


	14. For whatever it's worth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Callen walk a little more slowly in that final scene of 5x01.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (What if after what Deeks said to Kensi Sam and Callen didn’t come in and Kensi had the chance to answer him?) from ruahtic-for-a-life on tumblr.

_I just want you to know that the place I went to in my head to stop the pain was you. And I just kept thinking about your smile, and your laugh - everything.  It’s the only thing that got me through._

_For whatever it’s worth._

Kensi has never heard the bullpen so quiet. 

She watches Deeks watching her and realizes that she needs to speak. It’s her turn. She has to say something. To reach him.

He’s shuffling things in that damn box, looking like the world has already ended and it will never be sunny again. He barely resembles the confident man who’d stormed over and kissed her to interrupt her frustrated diatribe. His soft words are repeating over and over in her brain, a cacophony of hope and pain, trust and loss. 

She’d been there in his darkest hour, in some form. Did that mean she now reminds him of the darkness?

_For whatever it’s worth._

"It’s worth plenty," she says finally, painfully aware that it’s inadequate. She eases forward, watching his face for any signs of discomfort. "Deeks…"

"Just don’t." His eyes look so flat. Dead and hollow. 

She eases forward a few more steps. He told her he wants to go. To leave behind everything. Everyone. Her. Them. She’s pretty sure a part of her died when he didn’t deny it.

But then he told her she’s where he went to hide.

Maybe that will be stronger. Maybe it’s enough.

"Deeks, please." She reaches the edge of his desk and pauses, watching to see if he backs away. "I’m, I’m glad you had somewhere to… go."

He does flinch back then, looking over to the coffee machine with a dark expression. She holds her breath and wills him to look at her.

When he does, she sees fear. 

"And I’m, I’m glad it was me," she whispers. She raises her hand to shoulder level and tries not to clench her fingers as she waits for permission to touch him. He gives her nothing; her hand falls to the table.

"I wish it had been me."

They both know she’s not talking about a place to hide anymore. 

"No." His voice is low and urgent. His hand shoots out to circle her wrist, tugging her closer. He’s clenching his jaw, which must hurt so much that he’s breathing in ragged gasps, and she makes worried, soothing noises as he cups her face in trembling hands. "Don’t ever say that."

"Shhhh, ok, it’s ok," she murmurs. So she won’t say it.

But she’ll think it, every day. Like Sam and Callen, she’s known her whole life that she may face this situation. Deeks is sunshine and justice and jokes hiding pain that even she’s not sure she understands. He talks fast and shoots straight. She trusts him with her life. But the LAPD doesn’t train detectives to withstand torture. 

_It should have been her._

His hands steady after a moment, and she can feel him getting ready to pull away. She covers his hands with her own, gently holding him there.

For a moment, he closes his eyes, resting his forehead against hers. It’s missing the fire and challenge of their kiss, but none of the intimacy. 

"What can I do?" Her voice cracks a little at the end of the question. Her entire body is humming with the need for action. She wants to fix him. But Nate’s taught her enough to know that it’s not that simple.

He tightens his grip on her, then slips from her grasp and steps back. Space yawns between them, and she fights the urge to follow, to stay in physical contact with him until she’s sure he’ll be ok.

It’s not her call.

They both hear the front doors swing open, and Sam and Callen’s voices echo down the hall.

He stares back down into the box. “I don’t know. I’ll tell you when I do.”

"Promise, partner?"

"Promise."

Then their co-workers are there, teasing gently, pulling him along on a tide of normalcy. She watches him rebuild his armor and smiles to hide her fear. 

What if she can’t break through next time?


	15. Basic post-operative instructions (post 5x01)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kensi, Callen and two team members who've just been tortured walk into a bar... (this is not a joke, just a post-ep tag to 5x01.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (an after drinks with the team Densi scene or a during drinks with the team Densi scene) from every-atom-of-your-existence on tumblr.

Kensi has never been more sober on a team night out. She was a two-drink maximum for a solid year after bowling and Dom. The creeping fear of letting another member of the team down seemed to crop up the moment she felt a friendly buzz.

But she’s moved past that. They’ve got protocols now. Deeks always texts her when he gets home, just to keep her from sitting up and waiting for the official gps confirmation email. 

So she’s been able to relax, to let loose. But not tonight.

She’s nursing a whisky on the rocks while Callen and Sam examine the doctor’s instructions that Deeks stuffed in his back pocket on his way to the helipad. 

It’s a one-size-fits-all printout meant for people recovering from oral surgery. It has lines like “We have provided some basic post-operative instructions to make your recovery as comfortable as possible.” Deeks especially likes the warnings that “minor bleeding may occur.” 

"It says to limit activity and keep your head elevated to 45 degrees with a pillow," Callen says with a shake of his head. "I hope you remembered that during your rooftop rescue mission."

Sam gives Kensi a gentle shove on the shoulder. “I think his head was elevated then, didn’t you?”

She smiles, but she’s focused on Deeks’ hands, moving restlessly on the table. He’s picked up and put down the coaster in front of him 15 times now. 

"Here we go," Callen announces. "The diet section. Looks like you’re good with clear sodas, my friend. You on the drugs? Should I have them spike it?"

Kensi tenses and shakes her head. It’s almost a reflex. But no one’s looking at her.

Deeks takes a minute to answer. He flips that damn coaster over three more times. His voice is still hoarse.

"Nah, I can’t drug up and carry a gun at the same time. But just the soda, man. Thanks."

Sam gets Michelle on the line, and she says she’d have come out with them but she already drove an hour to her mother’s house and is currently eating ice cream with her children. Deeks is quiet, so Kensi jumps in and congratulates her on a job well done. 

"I just, thank you all." Michelle murmurs something to the other people in the room and Kensi can hear her walking away from the TV noise. "Thank you. For Sam, for making it possible for me to do my job."

Callen arrives back at the table with Deeks’ soda and a second round of beers for himself and Sam. Kensi has barely made a dent in her whisky. 

He chats with Michelle for a few more minutes and then Sam steps away to finish the call. 

Kensi snatches the straw from Deeks’ cup when he bends toward it. Both men turn to look at her, eyebrows raised. 

"What? I was reading that stupid sheet. It said straws were bad."

She holds Deeks eyes across the table, hoping he gets the message.  _I care. I’m going to help. Even if I’m terrible at it, I’m going to try._

He raises his glass of Sprite in a salute and sips at it, breaking eye contact when Sam walks back in. 

As the night progresses, Sam and Callen get louder, while Kensi and Deeks get quieter. They’re on round four, her whisky is a watery travesty, and Deeks has been in the bathroom for almost 10 minutes when Kensi finally panics and sends Sam in after him. 

"Be nice," she begs. He sidearm hugs her, and she knows it’s an apology for the mean-spirited tone of his teasing of Deeks before.

He’s back in about 45 seconds with a worried look on his face.

"He’s not there."

"What?"

"Bathroom’s empty."

Callen and Kensi are on their feet immediately, scanning the bar for possible hiding places. They treat it like an op, dividing possible exits and setting a meet point in the back parking lot. 

She finds him sitting on the hood of her car. 

"Hey." She leans against the driver’s side, and tries to sound unconcerned. "You never came back."

"Bathroom was a little small," he admits quietly. "Needed some air."

"You ready to go?"

"Nah. Stars are out. Don’t often see this many over Los Angeles."

He scoots to the far side of the hood, away from her. There’s no actual invitation, no teasing grin or come hither look. But it’s the closest she’s had from him all day.

She waves Sam and Callen back inside and climbs up next to him. 

"You’re gonna take those pain pills, right?"

"Is that the big dipper? I always forget."

"Deeks."

"Leave it, Kens."

They sit in silence, not quite touching, but feeling closer than they’ve been all day. 

The next thing she knows, Deeks is touching her shoulder as she jerks awake. 

"When did it get cold?" Kensi rubs her arms and sits up, looking around at the much emptier parking lot. Sam’s Charger is still there, though, and she can see that he and Callen have moved tables, relocating to one with a view of her car.

"You should go, it’s almost midnight." He doesn’t say he’ll come with her. He doesn’t ask for company or help or anything. She’s groggy and really bad at reading his mind.

"Yeah, I can drop you if you’re ready to go." Because she doesn’t really want to let him out of her sight.

"I called a cab. I’ll just wait on the steps." He’s already sliding off the car, pulling away. 

"Deeks, don’t do that."

"I’m the wrong direction, Kens. You’re exhausted."

"I’ll just follow you home, you know that, right?"

They stare at each other, ten feet apart, implacable. 

The cab interrupts their standoff, and he shrugs and moves away. She texts Sam and Callen and keeps a distance of 2 cars maximum between her and the cab the entire ride to his apartment. 

He looks for her when he gets out, but she’s already parked with lights off. He goes inside and she waits for the text, the little display of normalcy that will let her release, go home, rest. 

It never comes. 

She stays there all night.


	16. Days go by

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four months later, Kensi tries to deal with her new reality. (speculation for 5x02)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (Your vision of Densi in the upcoming episode (5x2). Where does that bullpen conversation pick up? Maybe K visits him at his apt? Monty cameo?) from Idristardis on tumblr.

It’s been four months. Deeks is still not back. 

Granger’s filled in a few times on high profile cases. It’s unnerving, really, how comfortable she’s getting around him. She mentioned it to Nell over lunch today. Nell figures he’s grooming her for a promotion.

Deeks would have said that Nell would know. And probably wiggled his eyebrows.

But Deeks is still not back.

So she’s eating Chinese food on her couch and brooding about partners.

It’s hard, when you work in law enforcement, to explain what that word means. To Kensi, it’s always been a challenge. A goal. A test she needs to pass to do her job correctly. 

She has them, somewhere in the pile next to the TV: her handwritten score sheets, grading her “partner work.” Could she name his/her parents? Did she know her partner’s significant other? Does she know what side they shoot from, what their blind spot is, how long until they have to reload their gun?

She used to quiz herself about Dom, then slip the facts into conversations. If she was right, she treated herself to ice cream. Wrong, and she studied harder.

God she was such an idiot.

She never wrote out a sheet for Deeks. Kensi was too sure he wouldn’t last, in the beginning. 

Then she was too scared he would leave. 

But she has one now. A spreadsheet, which she thinks he will appreciate if they ever get back to how things were.

On it, she marks things like “days until I have to file an extension on partner leave of absence” (10) and “what day can I next call him” (it’s Tuesday) or “what day can I next drop by” (not until Friday). 

She’s trying not to crowd him. 

Nate tells her to give him the space he’s asking for. Callen and Sam look sympathetic, but they have each other. Hetty sighs and reminds her that she needs to have a partner. 

None of them understand, not really, that she doesn’t know how to do this job without her partner. Not anymore.

**

Tuesday, she waits to call until after work. 

It’s the end of a long day that Kensi spent doing a lot of legwork on a minor case with a green junior agent from Pittsburgh.

She tweaked her left ankle jumping off a balcony when the greenhorn missed the takedown. She has it elevated, an icepack strapped around it. Well, it’s a package of frozen peas that Deeks had left here last year when she’d gotten a mild concussion and he’d stormed around her apartment cleaning and complaining that she was a teenager.

But it’s practically the same thing.

He picks up on the third ring. 

"Kens?"

"Hey." She swallows the word partner. She’s gotten so much advice in the last few months - don’t push, don’t disappear, don’t rush, don’t look worried, don’t look unconcerned - that she has started second- and third-guessing herself. 

Deeks should be calling her on it.

"Like clockwork," he says. "You enjoying your evening?"

No. I need you. I’m lonely and confused and in pain. And it’s possible these damn peas are going to be my dinner.

"Yeah, fine." She pauses, gives him a chance to challenge her. "Uh, did you guys hit the beach today?"

"Nah, just walked the old guy around the block." Four months of this. He still sounds listless. 

"That’s good, yeah." She winces, hating the way she has nothing to say because everything she wants to talk about is tied to them, which means work, which means things that are off limits unless he brings them up. "Uh, listen, what are you up to on Friday? I was thinking we could grab burgers and maybe stretch Monty’s legs a bit?"

He huffs a noise between a laugh and a sigh. “Kens, you’re already on my calendar. Which, you know perfectly well, is wide open. See you then?”

"Yeah, ok."

They hang up and she spends a few minutes blinking furiously at Final Jeopardy and telling herself it’s just that her ankle hurts so damn much.

**

She’s been on the desk for the last three days. Hetty is punishing her for not going to a doctor about the ankle (which is, in fact, good and twisted) with paperwork. The crutches are not helping her mood. 

Neither is the looming deadline to re-extend Deeks’ leave. 

But it’s Friday, and the whole office knows that barring a major case, Kensi leaves work at 3 pm on Fridays and goes to hang out with Deeks and Monty.

Sam gives her a dog toy to bring along, Callen just passes along an invitation to a basketball game that weekend. 

Hetty hands her two envelopes: one with a letter reminding Deeks that he’s due to come in for a psych evaluation to be cleared for active duty, and the other with an extension form for his leave.

They both know he’s running out of time.

He and Monty are waiting at the door for her. He hasn’t invited her into his apartment once in the last four months. 

She’s trying to be ok with that. 

"Three minutes late, Ms. Blye," he says as she hobbles over. Screw the crutches, it’s wrapped and Hetty’s not watching.

He eyes her bad ankle and she wonders for a moment if he’s going to ask. She busies herself with greeting Monty. He’s wiggling like a little madman, and she appreciates the enthusiasm. She also appreciates that he lets her rub his belly and licks her hand in gratitude. 

When she stands up, Deeks is staring out at the parking lot. 

"I’ve got some stuff from Hetty for you," she says tentatively. "Uh, and Sam sent Monty a toy."

She digs it out of her pocket, a little fuzzy shark with a squeaker inside. Deeks pulls the tags off and shoves them in his back pocket, then tosses the toy to Monty. The dog catches it neatly and trots ahead, dismayed by all of this standing around.

They start walking, and Kensi has to stop herself from sneaking looks at him, trying to judge whether he looks better rested, calmer, happier. 

She can’t tell. She’s too glad to see him. 

"Callen mentioned a pick-up game this weekend. A couple of us are going. Sam’s not, he and Michelle are going camping with the kids." She grimaces when she realizes whose name she just said, but he doesn’t respond. She’s not sure if his lack of reaction is a relief or more bad news. "Umm, but me and Callen and, I think, Jeffries from tech. Do you know Jeffries? He’s kind of new."

He shrugs and she’s not sure how to interpret that. “He’s not that tall, a kind of wiry little Guatemalan guy, but Callen says he can play.”

More silence. Monty pauses to mark a palm tree and they both stop to wait. 

"So, you should come, if you’re not busy or something," she mutters.

"Wouldn’t that violate our timetable?" 

"I - what?"

"You’ve got me pretty scheduled out," he says softly, starting to walk again. She’s still for a few moments, trying to understand. By the time it hits her, he’s five or six strides ahead and she has to hurry to catch up. Her ankle protests.

"I’m just - you said I needed to give you space, dammit."

"Well, good job."

"Deeks, whoa, what is this?"

"You call on Sundays and Tuesdays, you stop by on Fridays. I get one to two texts a day from you, and an email every two-three days." He glowers into the sun. "What do you have reminders on your phone or something?"

She tenses, and he barks a laugh. It’s not a happy sound. “You do! That’s nice. You know, that you can squeeze in a little time for the old head case.”

“ _Deeks._ ”

"Am I your partner or your community service assignment?" he snaps. They’re almost to the burger stand. He waves her off and goes to stand in line. She debates, momentarily, continuing the conversation there, but she’s pretty sure a crowd won’t help. 

So she picks out a table on the edge of the pavilion and elevates her sore ankle again. She should have brought the crutches. 

He brings the burgers, Monty trailing happily behind. They eat in silence at first, his face a picture of frustration.

She’s picking at her fries when he finally speaks.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?"

Her first instinct is to check for ketchup on her shirt, but he makes an impatient noise and indicates her ankle.

"Oh, that," she rolls her eyes. "Balcony was a little higher than I thought."

He drops his head into his hands and groans. 

"It’s fine, Deeks, just a little swollen."

"You’re an idiot." She has no answer for that. “Besides, I already heard the story from Eric, and I know you only went off that balcony because the agent they sent you out with got lost on his way to the stairs.”

He talks to Eric? About her?

"What do you-"

"Kensi, you don’t think you’re the only person from the office who stays in touch, do you?" His voice is unexpectedly gentle.

"They never said…" anything. At all. How could they all let her think she was responsible for this on her own. How could they not tell her that she was failing?

"I think the consensus is that you and I are adults who should be able to communicate on our own." There’s a hint of humor in his words, and she wonders if his choice was deliberate.

She wonders if he still wants to kiss her.

"Assholes." 

He pushes his uneaten fries toward her and changes the subject. “You can’t play this weekend.”

She’s caught with a mouth full of french fry and just glares at him. It’s the most normal she’s felt in weeks.

"There’s no way your ankle’s ready for that." He glances down the beach at a volleyball game that has just erupted into screams and cheers. Kensi swallows and prepares to argue, but he holds up a hand. "Besides, I think… I need your help." 

She’s frozen, not wanting to do anything to distract him from whatever strange mood he’s in. “Yeah, ok.”

"Hetty dropped by this morning."

"She what?" Not what she was expecting to hear.

"Well, I say dropped by. She appeared in my apartment and told me I had a psych eval to pass next Wednesday."

"Oh."

"And a physical on Thursday."

"Oh?"

"Apparently she thinks I’ll pass the psych."

"Oh."

"So if you had some non-scheduled time to help me prep," he trails off, rubbing Monty’s chin.

"Yes."

"I didn’t tell you when."

"Deeks. You do realize… I mean, you know why you’re a reminder in my phone, right?"

He turns to look at her, a spark of actual curiosity in his blue eyes. 

"You told me you needed space," she says. "And you never told me when that was over. And if I’d just texted you whenever I wanted, or visited whenever I needed, we’d be roommates. I’d have been nonstop. And it wasn’t supposed to be about me. Everyone said…"

"Screw everyone, Kens. Since when have they mattered?"

Her hands are clenched very tightly, slowly shredding her napkin. ”I’m not good at this. I thought I understood with Jack and…”

She’s shocked when he reaches across the table.

"I may be many things, Kens, but I am not Jack." There’s understanding in his voice, not exasperation. 

They sit like that for a minute. His hand on hers is warm and solid and  _right_. 

"So what are you saying?"

"I’m saying," he looks at their hands, then back at her. "I’m saying go for it. Text me stupid shit Granger says. Call me partner. Remind me if you need more frozen peas for your ankle. Ask me when I’m coming back. I don’t know if I’ve got the answers yet, but I’m telling you to ask."

"Okay."

He almost smiles, squeezes her hand, and then gets up to dump their trash. She invites Monty up onto her lap and is scratching his belly when Deeks returns.

"Just called a cab. We’re meeting them at the corner." He watches her hobble with a look of disdain. "Real intimidating, Agent Blye."

The sun seems a little warmer, the weekend a bit more promising than it did an hour ago. Maybe they’ll be all right after all.

She can’t help smiling. “Got to get you back into fighting form. Try to keep up, partner.” 


	17. Those three words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kensi tries to find her footing in the post-5x02 world. Deeks makes bacon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (can you write a post 5x02, like maybe the morning after) from freaksgeeks-n-deeks on tumblr.

Kensi wakes up the next morning with a crick in her neck and the seam of the couch imprinted on her cheek. 

Deeks is nowhere to be seen. His pink cat pillow sits next to her hip, and she smiles as she strokes the absurd, matronly design. 

_It’s a love story._

Even the memory of those words gets her heart pounding. She’s not quite sure whether it’s fear or excitement, or a confusing mixture of the two.

The Yummy Yummy Heart Attack containers are gone, as is most of the trash she’d seen when she came in. And if she’s not mistaken, there’s the smell of coffee and… 

"Is that bacon?"

He shuffles out of the kitchen, floppy-haired, still looking drawn and tired. But at least he looks like he’s showered. She wonders how long he slept last night.

"Yeah, I, uh, went to the corner to grab some. There are eggs and some bananas too," he gestures behind him with a spatula.

Kensi stretches, wincing as her neck protests the movement. 

"Ah, god, partner, your couch is in need of a few new cushions, I think."

He’s watching her, that too-serious look on his face. 

"I may have flattened them out over the last few weeks." He turns at the sound of a timer buzzing. "Eggs are done."

She bites her lip and considers whether to push.

"Hey, where’s your bathroom?" Better to splash her face and pull her hair back into place, and push on a full stomach.

He points, and she does her best to ignore the layer of grime on all the fixtures. She mentally schedules some time to attack his disorder with a pair of rubber gloves and some heavy-duty cleaning products. 

Which is weird, because he’s usually the one helping her clean. 

They eat in silence, unusual but not uncomfortable, punctuated only by her excited noises about the bacon (it’s crispy and amazing).

When he takes her plate, she folds her legs under her on the chair and searches for the words she’s been lacking all morning.

Somehow, even now, he gets there first.

"How’d you sleep?"

"Well, as I didn’t notice you leave or come back, I’d say I slept hard." She drums her fingers on the table. "Uh, how about you?" 

There. That’s something. 

He’s quiet for a moment, wiping his hands on the dishtowel he’s got slung over the faucet. She waits him out, barely.

"I woke up around 5:30, heard the garbage truck backing up outside." He leans against the counter and looks at her. "That’s the longest I’ve slept since… well, since."

"Ok," she says. "Ok, that’s… that’s good, right? Of course it is. Just, uh, just promise me I don’t have to bring over Yummy Yummy every night." He tilts his head, confused. "You know, for our cuddling sessions."

She grins widely so he’ll know it’s a joke, ignoring the whisper in her heart that says she’d do it, even if she had to eat a heart attack every night. If that’s what it takes… 

"Kensalina," he actually smiles, just a little. "You are going to be late for work."

Ah, so he’s not coming, then. 

"Right, yeah. Just have to run home… grab a few things." She stands, hesitates, and then makes up her mind. She strides over to him and slides her arms around his chest. She leans into the hug, closing her eyes when he finally lifts his arms and hugs her back.

She holds him for a minute, maybe less. Then she breaks away and smiles as though they had just split a hot dog at their favorite lunch stand and not spent the night next to each other after weeks of silence.

"See you, partner."

He walks her to the door, and stands framed there, watching her leave. 

Her phone dings as she climbs into her car. The text is just three words, but they’re the ones she most wants to hear.

  _See you soon_.


	18. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Effie214: “hands, like secrets, are the hardest things to keep from you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a tumblr drabble I wrote during S5, during the Kensi/Afghanistan stretch. sorry for the outdated post!)

When she gets back, they decide to take things slow. 

Three months in an undisclosed location and the occasional satphone call have both of them nervous and questioning.

There are things Kensi can’t tell him, about her mission, about Granger’s role in it, about the mess with Sabatino. There are things Deeks still hasn’t told her, about his childhood, his father, his newly developed need for very soft toothbrushes and the lingering fear that keeps him up at night. 

So Deeks picks her up from the airport and she gets a hug, but not a kiss. He drops her at her apartment, where he’s been watering her one spider plant - her only botanical success story to date - and they make plans for lunch the next day.

Space. Time. Readjustment. 

Neither one wants to screw this up, she reminds herself. It’s too important. 

They go for burritos by the beach, a welcome home Los Angeles style. Kensi knows she looks tired. Hetty’s given her the week off. 

She can’t stop touching him. 

Nothing major - she’s not holding his hand or running her fingers through that messy blond hair. But when he offers her the tray, she lets her fingers brush his. When he sits down beside her, her thigh and arm bump him gently. 

She needs to know that he’s real. 

Deeks doesn’t seem to mind. He makes a point of reaching around her back for the hot sauce, letting his arm settle teasingly over her shoulders. 

They go for a stroll after lunch, hands brushing but not clasping, moving in sync as if she’d never left. 

Never been sent away.

On the car ride home, her hand rests on his shoulder, and his finds her knee, his thumb moving in circles against her jeans. He pulls up in front of her apartment and smiles that blinding smile that kept her up at night in the deserts of Afghanistan. 

She’s supposed to let go, to walk inside alone and unpack, rest, think. 

Instead her hands are on his face, pulling it toward her own. His hands settle around her waist, anchoring her as she angles across the gearbox and kisses him.

She follows him as he climbs out the driver’s side, a hand on his arm the entire time. He pushes her back against the car, this time letting his hands sift through her soft hair and pressing his body up against hers as he kisses her. 

Space? She wants as little as they can manage.

Time? Right now sounds perfect.

Readjustment? Overrated. There will still be secrets tomorrow, and questions, and problems to handle. 

But there will also be Deeks. And that’s enough.

His eyes ignite as she takes him by the hand and pulls him inside. 


	19. Happy birthday to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kensi is neither surprised nor pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was the first sentence.

"You guys, you really," she sighed, a hand on her forehead in a vain attempt to calm herself, "I really hate you, you know that right?"

The bullpen is decked out, fully covered in streamers and shiny paper mobiles with guns and target sights, and the words “Happy Birthday” on printer paper, one letter per page, taped all over her desk.

It’s way too early for this shit. 

Deeks slides over and takes her coffee and holds his other hand out for her bag. “Well, I just didn’t want to  _forget_  my partner’s birthday,” he teases when she hands it to him with a glare. 

"And we know how you love to celebrate," Callen winks. 

Sam just nods at the colorful stack of presents on her desk. “You awake enough to open those?” 

She doesn’t even get to answer when Eric comes bounding down the stairs, two at a time, whistling to wake the dead.

"Apparently, we have a case," she says with some relief. "Deeks, coffee."

Sam and Callen laugh and file up the stairs ahead of her. Deeks holds the coffee up above his head until she points at his vulnerable underarm threateningly. “I know you’re ticklish, Detective.”

He jumps back, and hands the coffee over with no more complaint. “Come on, Kens, you like it a little.”

She turns and looks again at the display. That mobile is really pretty cool. 

"I like it a little," she admits. "But I still would have preferred the extra hour in bed with you."


	20. Hold my hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another drabble from last season's Afghanistan arc for Kensi. Prompt: hold my hand.

When they drag Jack out and she’s hoarse from screaming after him, Kensi finds herself alone in the dark once more.

It should alarm her. There should be hairs standing up on the back of her neck, and a sense of doom in the air.

Maybe she’s been in country too long, because it just feels empty.

Her entire identity has been ripped away in the last year. Her search for her father’s truth, finding her mother again. And now Jack. Kensi feels like her internal compass is spinning wildly out of control. 

She misses Deeks. His hand on hers to steady her, to remind her without saying a word that she’s not alone.

It’s strange, to think of her partner and the man she thought she’d love for the rest of her life in such different ways. Jack is a terrifying new complication, one more person who has left her hurting, who has found a life that doesn’t include her at all.

Deeks is home. 

When did that happen?

She’s not sure, but seeing Jack alive and in front of her,  _touching_ Jack after so many years of believing the worst — that he was dead in a ditch, that he had finally followed through on those threats of walking into the Pacific Ocean or putting his service pistol to better use — it was good. It was important.

It was the end of something. 

She’d needed to hear him say it. That he’s moved on, had a life, found peace without her. That in the end, his unhappiness hadn’t been about her at all. 

It had been about him. And he had done what he had to do to change his life until the roar in his soul quieted. 

She tries not to let herself dwell on that roar now, on whether his peace will survive captivity here, on whether her mercy will shatter him in the end. 

Because it might destroy her, to hear Jack talk with such peace, only to be the reason his life ends in blood. 

Kensi doesn’t want to be broken anymore. 

******

It’s hours later, judging by the crick in her neck, when the crunch of gravel jolts her awake. There’s a chill in the air blowing in from the desert hills that tells her it must be night time. 

She backs up against the cave wall, hand scrabbling for the biggest stone she can find. Maybe it’s food. Maybe they’ve come to relight her fire. 

Maybe they’ve come to kill her.

She’s not going to go easily. But if she can save Jack from this, she will. 

At least she’ll have finally succeeded in helping him. 

Her eyes are so well adjusted to the dark that the torches are blinding when they round the final bend. For a moment, the men are dark shadows, and she prepares to strike at anyone that moves. 

Then the middle one speaks. 

"That’s her."

_Sabatino._

The torch-bearers nod, and one moves to unchain her foot. Kensi bolts to her feet, swaying at the sudden head rush.

Still, when Sabatino offers her a hand she folds her own under her arms and widens her stance for balance. 

He speaks to her in Spanish, a language the tribal warriors of Afghanistan have little familiarity with. 

"Don’t be an idiot and we might both survive this."

Her answer is Spanish as well, but slightly more colorful. Money changes hands and she’s shoved in his direction, shrugging off the hand that he lays on her shoulder. 

She needs to find Jack. 

He’s leading her out of the cave, silent and dour. There is no sign of other prisoners. No evidence that she was ever anything but alone. 

There’s also no blood. Just the blank faces of insurgents tracking their every step.

She hopes that means he’s gone. Disappeared back to his home and his tribe. But her gut tells her otherwise. She wishes it came with better instructions. 

They don’t talk. Sabatino’s disgust with her is clear. She doesn’t trust him in the least. He takes a swig of his canteen before he hands it to her, clearly understanding that. 

They’ve been walking about a mile when the gun barrel presses into the back of her neck.

"Far enough away now?" She spits into the sand, wondering if her tired body can fight this last fight. "A gunshot out here  _probably_ won’t restart the war.”

"Jesus, Blye," his voice is dripping with frustration. "I liked you. You just couldn’t do your damn job, could you?"

"Which job is that?" She turns slowly to face him, letting the gun maintain contact with her skin the entire time. She wants to look the asshole in the eyes. "The one where I shoot whoever you tell me to? Or the one where I find the White Ghost?"

"It’s the same goddamn thing!"

Kensi takes a step toward him. Pushes her throat against the gun until he eases the pressure. Her blood is rushing in her ears. Jack was just a pawn, someone to take the fall for a corrupt CIA piece of shit agent. “So you keep saying. And yet here we are.”

Somewhere behind her, a twig snaps. His eyes dart to the noise, and she takes him out at the knees.

The next few seconds are a blur. 

There are gunshots. None of them seem to hit her. Sabatino is on his back in the dust cursing at her and whoever is shooting keeps going wide. 

Then her entire world stops.

"You’re going to want to lower that weapon nice and easy, Agent Sabatino."

_Callen._

She knows it’s not the right move. She knows she should disarm him, should watch her six, should remember procedure. But she’s exhausted and the adrenaline rush is fading and  _her team is here._

So she spins around, searching the brush wildly for their faces. Callen’s front and center, and she can see Sam moving in from the left to do what she couldn’t be bothered to and secure Sabatino. 

Then a hand lands on her shoulder and her knees buckle. 

"Whoa there, sunshine!" Deeks slips an arm under her shoulders and hauls her back to her feet. "No need to swoon at my feet. You ok?"

Her hand finds his and squeezes. The world rights itself, and for a moment, she remembers Jack’s story of finding peace. 

"I’m fine- good. I’m good."

His stupid wonderful face crinkles up into a smile and he drags her off to the side, away from the building argument between the two senior agents and the CIA man on the ground. 

When his other arm comes around her it’s not for support. It’s the hug she’s been dreaming about for all of these months. 

He laughs into her hair. “Well, I’m good if you’re good.”


	21. Shutting you up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are very few ways to make Deeks stop talking. Prompt: Shutting you up kiss (Drabble from S5)

"Look, I’m not saying you’re wrong," Kensi grins, a forkful of baked ziti hovering in front of her mouth, "but I’m right." 

It feels so normal, sitting here, arguing with Deeks as she watches the waves roll in. Such a lifetime from the cave in Afghanistan where her whole world had spun on its axis again. Almost like she’s really home. 

"How could you be right?" He’s long since finished his meal and is leaning back against the picnic table, his leg brushing hers as they sit facing the water. "Being right would imply that A) you have other points of comparison that might inform such a decision and B) no, I can’t give this one to you. I can’t. My partner cannot be so far beyond redemption."

She pauses chewing to glare at him. “Shut up, Deeks.”

"That’s nice, that’s very classy, Kens. You know what else is classy? Mad Men is classy, or it was until they got to the 70s. Scandal is classy, if you go in for all that political maneuvering. Hell, if you really have to watch reality TV, how about The Voice? Uniformly positive show that doesn’t start out looking to humiliate and laugh at its contestants? Classy."

He’s just getting wound up. She sets her empty plate down and crosses her arms. 

"Deeks."

"And you know what is neither classy or — what was the phrase? ‘The best show on TV right now’ or something equally absurd? America’s Next Top Model is, maybe, possibly  _decent_  reality television that ranks slightly above Wife Swap and — uh… “

She cuts him off by swinging her leg over him, so she’s straddling his lap. 

"I thought I told you to shut up?"

His eyes are laughing, and when he opens his mouth to argue some more, she leans down and covers it with her own. His hands go around her waist and her hair covers them from view. It’s a light kiss, they’re both still smiling and they’re in public, but it steals her breath anyway.

"You make a compelling argument, Agent Blye." He watches her slide off him with a shit-eating grin on his handsome face. She pushes her hair back over her shoulder and narrows her eyes at him. "But maybe you could repeat that last bit? I didn’t catch it."

She whacks him on the head with the paper plates as she heads for the trash can. It’s good to be home. 


End file.
